


The Missing Stories

by OlmWorthy



Series: A Shrine by The Seaside [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Deity Qrow Branwen, F/M, M/M, Priest Clover Ebi, accepting requestes, and if they don't break the canon, deity worship, will be updated - Freeform, within reason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23935747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlmWorthy/pseuds/OlmWorthy
Summary: A collection of stories that fit into "A Shrine by The Seaside" canon. Based on the questions and requests of the fans. Will be updated irregularly - no set schedule.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Summer Rose/Taiyang Xiao Long
Series: A Shrine by The Seaside [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725337
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	1. Adam

**Author's Note:**

> So, some of the people that liked "A Shrine by The Seaside" have been asking for more works in the same canon.
> 
> I hereby deliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WolfKing69: "So what went on with adam?"
> 
> This chapter explains my vision in more detail than the short description I gave you in the comments.

It’s difficult for a Faunus to not drag attention when in places that are mostly populated by humans. If his horns weren’t enough, his brown and red hair did the trick.

But Adam’s most noticeable feature is his black cloth ribbon, rolled around his head and covering his left eye. _‘It_ _wasn’t always damaged,’_ he thinks to himself as he passes the sign to the village named Aesop, the Sun being born on the horizon.

Once you travel to as many places as Adam did, it gets easier to make sense of what’s where and who does what. Which is why locating the local inn wasn’t that difficult.

The inn already has some people in it. Some are at the bar, enjoying their drinks, while most are sitting at the tables and eating the food.

The food is mostly fish.

As is to be expected from a fishing village.

He sits down at the table with the only other Faunus he sees in the place, who is too absorbed in his eating to notice the stranger sitting on the opposite side of him.

Until he finishes with the meal.

“Do I know you?” The strange wolf-tailed Faunus asks, wiping his mouth in some rag.

“You obviously don’t,” Adam shoots back. “I just got here. How do I get the food around here?”

“Oh, that’s easy!” The stranger reassures. He lifts his hand up and makes a two-finger motion to the innkeeper. The woman nods and makes her way to the kitchen.

“Since I don’t know you,” the stranger notes, “can you tell me what your name is?”

“Adam.”

“Nice to meet you, Adam! I’m Marrow!”

Two plates full of the same meal Marrow was eating before are set in front of the two. Marrow’s portion is smaller than what appears to be Adam’s.

“How do I pay for it?”

“You don’t,” Marrow reassures. “We trade things around here.”

“I don’t have anything to trade.”

“If you trade me your meal for mine, I’ll cover it for you.”

“That would mean that I owe you,” Adam points out. “I don’t like that.”

“Then how about … we still do the same deal,  _but_ , you take my place at the local shrine this Sun, right after the meal?”

“What exactly am I supposed to do there?”

“My friend is going through his Priesthood,” Marrow explains. “He could use a new perspective. Like yours.”

“Like mine? How?”

“Well, you’re a Faunus,” Marrow continues. “There aren’t many of us here, as you probably already noticed, and my perspective and experiences as a Faunus are only one. Another one would be welcomed with open arms.”

“Why?”

“Only one way to find out. If you’re interested.”

After some silence, Adam slides over his plate to Marrow, whose tail started wagging fast enough to make some dust lift off the floor.

* * *

“So he’s replacing you, Marrow?” the Priest asks.

Marrow lead Adam to the shrine by the seaside, where the Priest (“His name’s Clover,” Marrow answered on the way) is going to perform the daily prayer. The sky is overcast, dulling the colors.

“Only for the Sun,” Marrow reassures.

“That’s fine,” Clover replies. Turning to the Faunus replacing his friend, he gives a warm and genuine smile. “Welcome to Aesop’s humble shrine, Adam.”

The shrine was one of the smallest, yet simplest ones he’s ever seen. It only has the bare necessities, such as an incense holder and an altar that must be grey from all of the ashes.

There’s black sand, forming an outline around it.

“I’ll leave you to his capable hands now,” Marrow concludes, turning around and making his way back to Aesop.

“Do you really need me to do anything?” Adam asks, turning to Clover, his blue eye locking with one of the teal ones.

“You already are,” Clover assures. “You’re new here, and with that, I have a fresh perspective on my work.”

“But why?”

“Because I want to make sure that, in case we  _do_ end up getting more worshipers, that no-one will be discriminated against.”

“So that anyone would welcome?”

“Now you’re getting it,” Clover cheers. Turning to the guy sitting on the ground, preparing the scrolls and ink, he then says: “See, Vine? Not that complicated of a matter.”

Vine doesn’t look up from his preparations when he replies: “You are oversimplifying a complicated idea, Clover. Some people will have to be rejected from joining our Worship because they are not going not conform to what we consider to be acceptable behaviors, or are willing to harm us.”

That piques Adam’s interest. “Why would anyone want to harm you?”

“I don’t think Marrow told him about our Deity,” Vine concludes, looking up at Clover.

“He didn’t tell me anything, really,” Adam confirms.

“Then why don’t I show you?”

Walking up to the shrine, Clover places some fish, lights some incense and spills some of the beverage onto the altar, soaking the fish in the process.

It catches on fire.

The fire turns red.

“Who’s the new guy?”

Behind them, a man appeared that wasn’t there just moments ago. His eyes glowing the same color and strength as the fire on the altar.

“Good birth-of-Sun, Qrow,” Clover greets. “This man here is Adam. He’s new to Aesop and is replacing Marrow for the Sun.”

“That’s going to be an interesting change,” Qrow notes.

“Adam,” Clover continues, “meet Qrow. Aesop’s Deity of Misfortune and Misery.”

* * *

“You left out some very important things before,” Adam says to Marrow.

"Like what?”

“Like how your Deity has a physical manifestation?”

Adam has returned from the shrine after sitting through Clover’s Priesthood (“Three Moons,” Clover said when asked how long he was doing it. “Three Moons were a Sun ago,” Vine corrected without looking up from his scroll, turning brush strokes into eligible writing). He didn’t have anything to add that would’ve made for a better accepting of Faunus into the Worship.

It was acceptable, but he had other ideas on his mind.

He found the guy strolling on the beach.

“Or how he’s Misfortune and Misery incarnate?” Adam continues, pacing in the sand. “Why do you all even pray to the guy?”

“Because he’s … so _normal_ for a Deity,” Marrow tries. “So common-like. Approachable. Relatable. He knows he can do harm, but is trying his best to control his curses. He does something bad and tries to fix it instead of telling us that he was in the right and making us go along with him.”

“But the things he represents-”

“Are not his fault,” Marrow interrupts. “He might represent them, but he’s not causing them out of malice or spite.”

“You’re starting to sound like that Klein-touched-”

“His name’s Vine. And don’t call him that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s my friend and you’re being rude.”

The silence between them is disturbed only by the sounds of the waves swimming up to the beach and flowing back. Adam can’t tell what the color of Marrow’s eyes is supposed to be - _‘a_ _weird mix of green, blue and grey,’_ \- but he notes that it’s the same as his hair.

“’m sorry,” Adam mutters.

“Just don’t do it again,” Marrow replies. “Have you thought about where you’re going to stay? And for how long?”

The quick change of the topic catches Adam off-guard, his good eye opening up wide for a few moments.

“Not really,” he answers. “I was thinking about staying in the inn.”

“Nah, that’s not gonna be good for you,” the wolf Faunus explains. “The inn might have some spare rooms, but can get pretty active at night. It’d be a miracle for you to get any shut-eye.”

“Then what would you suggest? Sleeping outside?”

“Wha-no! Come over to my place!”

* * *

The Sun has died. Most of Aesop is asleep by now - with the exception of the people in charge of the pyre on the cliff.

And Adam.

Once at Qrow’s shrine, he puts a small piece of bread on the altar. It catches on fire.

“Anything I can help you with?”

This time, Qrow appears in front of him out of thin air.

“I want you to answer one question.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Qrow rasps in his gruff voice. “Ask away.”

“When did you start existing?”

Qrow’s eyebrows quirk up in confusion at the question, but in the next moment, they turn into something more thoughtful.

“Three Moons and … I dunno, four Suns, I think? I’m pretty sure about the Moons.”

Adam looks like he’s mulling over something when he says: “Thanks. Rest well.”

“You, too,” Qrow replies politely, with confusion.

On the way back to Marrow’s place, a thought forms in his mind.

_‘Now I just need one more thing to set my plan in motion.’_

* * *

“Some of my scrolls went missing,” Vine states casually.

At Clover’s table, his friends stop with their chatter. A fork clatters on a plate and a pair of chopsticks are left atop one of the bowls. They couldn’t believe their ears.

“Are you sure?” Elm asks. She was the one who dropped her fork.

“I am quite certain,” Vine replies. “I checked them this birth-of-Sun, like I do every four Suns. Three of them are not where they are supposed to be.”

“Do you know what the scrolls were about?” Clover asks. It was him who set his chopsticks down.

“One was about Deities and the laws surrounding them. The second one contains my research on Qrow and his unique condition.”

“And the third one?” Marrow asks. His tail is curled across his lap.

“This might be something that can alarm you,” Vine warns, “but let me assure you that it does not represent my actual thoughts.”

After some silence from the table and his friends’ helpful nods that let him know they won’t judge him, Vine answers.

“The third scroll contains my research and theories on how to punish and control Deities without breaking the law.”

The silence continues for a few moments. Then Clover clears his throat and speaks up.

“Vine,” he starts calmly. “I know that you like to pursue knowledge and want to know how some things work. I admire and respect you for that, as a friend and a colleague. But as someone who might become a Priest in five Suns, I have to ask you this: have you done this research because of Qrow?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe that Qrow can be dangerous?”

“Yes.”

“So if I asked you, right now, that I want Qrow punished, would you do it?”

“No.”

That gives everyone a pause. Clover’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment.

“Why not?”

“I have two reasons. The first is that Qrow is currently not showing any signs of becoming dangerous, and I want to make sure with my own senses that it is in fact so. I would not blindly trust words of anyone, friend or foe.

“The second reason is that Qrow made it clear to me that he does not want to cause harm to anyone. He expressed it through words and later proved it in his actions. So far, he has proven trustworthy, therefore, if I were asked to punish him, I would not.”

Clover thinks for a moment, before replying: “I believe you.” 

Turning to the rest of the group, he continues: “Do we know anyone that would want to harm Vine in such a way?”

“Not really,” Marrow replies.

“There’s a lot of people in Aesop who think Vine’s rude,” Elm adds, “but they wouldn’t hurt him this way.”

“How about other things that happened in the last few Suns? They can be anything.”

“A new Faunus showed up to Aesop,” Marrow answers.

“You mean Blake?” Elm asks. “The cat Faunus? Cat ears, kinda silent, reads a lot?”

“Yeah. Showed up to the inn two Suns ago. I don’t know how she can stand staying there.”

“It’s the fish.”

“Elm, just because she’s a cat Faunus-”

“I mean it! She loves the stuff! You should’ve seen her, Marrow. It’s like having  _you_ around.”

“Come to think of it,” Clover thinks out loud, “I haven’t seen Adam since the first Sun he’s been here. Marrow, how is he?”

“He … doesn’t get out much,” Marrow recalls. “In fact, he didn’t get out at all these four Suns he’s been staying with me.”

“Do you believe there is a correlation between my missing scrolls, Adam and Blake, Clover?”

“We won’t know unless we find out,” Clover answers. “Vine, you have to come with me to Qrow’s shrine. He deserves to know what’s going on, and I think it would be for the best if he hears it from you.”

“Does that mean I’m with Marrow?” Elm asks.

“Yeah,” Clover answers. “Go to Marrow’s place, check out on Adam, maybe ask him some questions.”

* * *

“Why do you still live in a boathouse?”

Once in Marrow’s boathouse, Elm quickly looked around. There’s no visible signs of anyone other than Marrow living here.

“It was the first place that I could move into,” Marrow recalls, “once I arrived here. Grew on me really fast.”

“Doesn’t it get weird with the tides and the storms?”

“It doesn’t. It’s tied up to the pier very tightly. Doesn’t move.”

The waves make the boat sway as if to spite the Faunus.

“Much,” he adds.

“So where’s Adam staying?”

“Just behind here,” Marrow says, guiding Elm to the back of the boathouse, where a narrow hallway leads to a separate room.

The curtain is bunched up to the side, but no-one is inside the spare room.

But there is something familiar-looking rolled out on the floor.

“Vine’s scrolls,” Elm points out. “I recognize his writing style.”

“Adam’s got a lot of explaining to do,” Marrow says as he’s picking up the scrolls and rolling them up one by one. “And many apologies to offer. To everyone.”

* * *

“This does not look right.”

Vine’s words couldn’t be more true to Clover.

They are looking at Qrow’s shrine.

“I was here just this birth-of-Sun,” Clover recalls. “How did this happen?”

The shrine is surrounded by a few flat stones that would fit neatly into a palm. Their carvings are glowing an intense red, and a fire of the same color is burning on the altar.

_‘That’s not Qrow’s red,’_ Clover’s mind supplies.

“Someone must have placed these glyphs,” Vine points out. “They are meant to take control over a Deity.”

Clover reaches the obvious conclusion. “Someone is controlling Qrow?”

“It seems so,” Vine explains. “But these glyphs are not precisely carved in, and their distribution around the shrine is not ideal.”

“Meaning?”

“It is imperfect. It can be easily broken, if struck at its vulnerable point at the right time.”

“Do you know how to do it?” Clover asks hopefully.

“I do. This was taken from one of my scrolls, and someone is too sloppy with their handiwork. I suggest you go back to Aesop. I can handle this from here.”

As Vine hears Clover’s footsteps receding into the distance, he notes something interesting.

_‘The black sand is expanding. It did not reach beyond the glyph circle this birth-of-Sun.’_

* * *

In Aesop, the villagers have all pointed Clover to the inn.

Reaching the place and catching his breath, he sees why.

There were only two people in there.

Blake.

And Adam.

Blake’s eyes show fear, her hands trembling with the knife which she’s pointing in Adam’s direction. “Why can’t you just leave me alone, Adam?” She cries out loud.

With his eye cloth removed, both of Adam’s eyes can be seen clearly now. His right eye, clear and blue, contrasting the left eye, damaged with an old cut across it. Both are focused on the cat Faunus.

“Because you belong to me,” Adam replies calmly.

“I don’t!” Blake shouts back, her hands trembling even more. “I never did! I thought I used to love you, but now I know you were only manipulating me, grooming me to be your perfect girl.”

“Lies! I care about you, Blake. Why won’t you return my love?”

“Because you used me, Adam! What you call love is not what I would name it. You’re obsessed! To the point that whenever I did anything wrong in your eyes, you hit me and said you did it out of your love for me.” Raising her knife higher, she adds: “And like a fool, I believed it. I believed you. But no more.”

As Blake thrusts the knife forwards, Clover starts with a sprint.

The knife sinks into Qrow, who appears out of thin air. It sticks out of his chest.

His eyes betray no pain. But they also portray no life, dull and grey.

Clover stops in his tracks.

“One more step, Priest,” Adam warns, “and I’ll make sure your Deity here is … _voided_.”

“Wha-” Blake starts, coming to a realization. “A Deity? How? Why?”

“You thought you could cut me again, Blake?” Adam taunts. “Like you did two Moons ago? When you made me lose my eye?” As if to emphasize his point, he tilts his head so more of the bad eye could be easily seen by the girl.

“This guy here,” Adam taps Qrow’s shoulder, “is the reason for our miseries. A Deity of Misfortune and Misery, born three Moons ago, on the Sun that our … _misunderstanding_ , began.”

“You hurt Ilia! That was  _n_ o _t_ a misunderstanding.”

“She was all over you, ready to take you away from me!”

“She’s my friend, Adam! Even when she told me that she felt more for me than just friendship, I accepted her, but let her know I could never return my feelings.”

“Because you’re mine.”

“Because I wasn’t interested,” Blake corrects. “I never was. And now I know I was interested in you for the wrong reasons.”

Qrow shifts slightly, barely enough for Clover to register. His eye color is slowly returning to his normal soft red.

“I’ve heard enough of your insults,” Adam announces. “Qrow, make her suffer!”

Qrow throws a wink at Clover, just before he spins around and lands a punch to Adam’s face.

As Adam stumbles to the ground, he loses his grip on a small rock, making it slide across the floor.

A rock that glows an intense red, the same as the glyphs and the off-color fire on the shrine.

Until Clover steps on it and breaks it.

“No!” Adam shouts.

“Now let me make one thing clear, Adam,” Qrow starts, pulling the knife out of his chest and dropping it, the blade wedging itself into the floor. “I was not responsible for your misfortune and misery. But hearing your conversation with Blake? I wish I was.”

As a black tear rolls off of Qrow’s cheek and lands next to the wedged knife, the Deity disappears into thin air.

* * *

“How long has Qrow been gone?”

Harriet rarely gets anywhere close to Qrow’s shrine. Avoiding it by any means possible.

She hangs out with her friends less and less these last three Moons. A big part of that distancing is Qrow, but not the only reason.

This is her one exception.

“It’ll be five Suns, soon,” Clover answers, looking up at the stars. “I’m starting to get worried.”

“Adam’s control ritual has taken a lot out of Qrow,” Vine explains. “Recovery is a lengthy process, even for Deities.”

“It feels like it’s all my fault,” Marrow states, “even now.”

“Except it isn’t,” Harriet jumps in. “At least, not completely.”

“What do you mean?” Elm asks.

“Think about it,” Harriet starts. “It’s never the fault of one single individual. You all played your parts in it. Sure, Marrow invited Adam to the shrine and Adam did his things, but there’s also Clover, who accepted him in, Vine, who wrote the scrolls-”

“You, who didn’t even know these things we going on in the first place,” Elm offers.

“Harsh, but fair,” Harriet admits.

“Is there a point to the things you’re saying?” Clover asks.

“The point is,” Harriet concludes, “that we can spend Suns talking about whose fault is it really, playing the blame game, but in the end- the altar is on fire.”

Everyone’s heads turning, they can all see the soft red glow of the fire.

And Qrow, who’s laying in front of his shrine in fetal position, his back turned to the group.

“I see that he’s here,” Harriet announces. “Clover, after you guys are done, come over to my place. I want to talk to you about something.”

“Sure,” Clover replies, only half-focused on her words.

“I’ll see the rest of you next Sun,” Harriet says before turning around and walking to Aesop. “Or whenever.”

Clover makes his way carefully to Qrow’s laying form.

“Hey, Qrow,” he starts calmly. “How are you?”

“Terrifed,” Qrow answers honestly, shock present in his voice. “I never felt so … vulnerable.”

“You were brave,” Clover recalls, gently rubbing circles into the Deity’s back. “You stood up to Adam.”

“Only after the the glyph circle was broken,” Qrow points out. “Before then, I was under his complete control.”

The Deity visibly shudders.

“But you helped, too,” Qrow continues. “Breaking that stone returned that control to me. Thank you.”

“There are some thing Marrow and I would like to say,” Vine chimes in.

“We were thinking about it,” Marrow explains, “and we figured out that we should apologize to you, Qrow. It was because of me that Adam got that close to you all.”

“And by gaining access to my scrolls did he get the means to control you,” Vine adds. “We therefore express our apologies, Deity Qrow.”

Sitting up and turning to the two men, Qrow replies: “What you two said is true, but I don’t blame you. Marrow, you’re a guy that’s happy with the simple things in life, and I know that you want more Faunus around here.”

“It does get a bit lonely,” Marrow admits.

“Which is why the only thing I ask of you is to be more careful next time. Just because you share some traits with someone, that doesn’t mean they’re like you.”

“As for you, Vine,” Qrow continues, “I know of your love for knowledge, wanting to understand things around you. I also see that you’re holding up to your part of our promise.”

“What promise?” Clover asks.

“As long as Qrow doesn’t intentionally harm you, Clover,” Vine explains, “or anyone else, and as long as you don’t ask me to, I won’t do anything to harm the Deity.”

“That’s why when you come across such discoveries, Vine,” Qrow continues, “like Deity punishing, you put those scrolls somewhere safer. Somewhere where getting them will be more difficult.”

“Why not just destroy the scrolls?” Elm asks.

“Because I have invested work in them,” Vine replies, “and I do not want my work destroyed.”

“Then that settles it,” Qrow concludes.

“Actually,” Clover drops in, “there’s one more thing, Qrow.”

“Oh?”

“This is the last Sun of my Priesthood,” Clover explains.

“ _Oh.”_

“So now I have to ask you: after three Moons and ten Suns of work, will you accept me as your Priest?”

“I do.”

Standing up, Qrow places his palm on Clover’s head and speaks up in Old Words.

_“I accept your offer of Priesthood,_

_As according to out agreement,_

_I now grant you the title,_

_Clover, my Priest._

_May you serve me,_

_For as long as you want,_

_And may I have you by my side,_

_For as long as you will have me.”_

“Congratulations, Clover, my Priest,” Qrow adds in the end, for everyone to understand.

“Thank you, Qrow, my Deity,” Clover replies.

Marrow and Elm cheer, while Vine offers a polite applause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for the next chapter, I'm thinking a story about Summer and Taiyang.
> 
> Unless someone *really* wants me to write about something else? Are you guys OK with me just going along my own whims with the topics?


	2. Summer and Taiyang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Summer and Taiyang fall in love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably let you know that I do not beta-proof any of my work. If you spot a mistake, don't hesitate to point it out. And if you can suggest any additional tags and content warnings or a change in the rating for either this work or "A Shrine by The Seaside", please do so.

Taiyang has existed as a Deity for so long, that he’s lost track of many things.

The number of Eleven-Moons that mark his existence.

The name of the settlement before it became known as Patch.

The names of his Priests and Priestesses.

The times of prosperity and times of … less prosperity. The crops always grow. The soil is always fertile and the harvest bountiful.

But there was just too much to remember, so he forgets most. He may be Patch’s Deity, but even Deities are not immune to forgetfulness.

_‘Except Ozpin,’_ Taiyang thinks while looking over Patch’s vast fields. _‘He_ _remembers everything.’_

It’s sunny this Sun. Clear skies.

It’s raining. It’s a different Sun now. The sky is covered with thick clouds and the wind is not helping things.

A cloaked figure is making its way to Patch in this horrible weather.

Soaking wet, the white-cloaked figure shuffles under the roof that is covering the local shrine.

Shrugging the cloak hood off, it reveals a shivering young woman with shoulder-length black-and-red hair, pale skin.

And her beautiful silver eyes, which Taiyang notices immediately. And her optimism shining through them, even in the worst weather the woman must have gone through. 

Without thinking much, he focuses on the offerings at his altar - a few small pieces of different types of bread and a cup of an old beverage.

The bread start rotting away at a much faster pace and the beverage is frothing and forming chunks. They turn to dust not long after.

Taiyang sits on the ground and focuses his collected energy into it.

The soil dries up.

The air warms up.

The wind is no longer blowing into the shrine.

The mystery woman is no longer shaking. And she notices these things.

“I guess I’m staying here,” she says to herself, “at least until birth-of-Sun.”

* * *

“Who are you?”

A strong voice wakes the woman up, her silver eyes opening wide to see an older man addressing her. His roundness suggests strength rather than gluttony, even at his age, and his mustache is well cared for.

It also perks up Taiyang’s interest for a moment, until …

_‘Oh, great,’_ the Deity thinks. _‘He’s_ _going to bother her. He’s got nothing else to do at this time.’_

“And why are you sleeping at our local shrine?” The man continues.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she quickly apologizes, brushing off dirt off her robes. “I was caught in the storm, and I was so tired that once I came across this place, I decided to wait it out.”

“By sleeping on the soil?”

“I know it’s not conventional,” she defends herself, “but I can assure you that I don’t do it often.”

_‘Yet somehow, I_ do _feel well-rested,’_ she thinks. _‘For_ _all the times I slept like that, this is a first.’_

“So tell me, miss …”

“Summer.”

_‘That’s a beautiful name,’_ Taiyang thinks. _‘Unusual,_ _but it suits her.’_

“Miss Summer,” the old man repeats, “do you know of this plant?”

Looking at where the man is motioning his hand to, Summer looks to the left of the altar.

A tall green stalk, grown to the height of a human, that is supporting a bright yellow flower with a big brown center, the petals surrounding the central disk.

_‘That wasn’t there a Sun ago,’_ Taiyang thinks.

“That wasn’t there a Sun ago,” Summer says only a moment later.

_‘Did she just-’_

“You sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure, mister …”

“Peter,” the old man replies. “But everyone calls me Port.”

“Do you know what it is, Port?”

“No idea. Looks like if the Sun was a flower, though.”

“Sun-flower,” Summer tries. “Simple, tells you what it looks like. I like the name.”

Walking around the plant that has just been named ‘Sun-flower’, Taiyang notices something interesting.

“The plant!” Port points out. “It’s turning its head!”

From Taiyang’s perspective, the flower is facing him, no matter where he steps.

“A sign from Taiyang,” Port concludes.

“… is Taiyang-”

“Patch’s Deity of Fertility and Good Harvest, whose shrine you’ve slept in? Yes, it is. It’s been Eleven-Moons since I’ve seen one of his signs so clearly.”

Kneeling, then bowing to the floor, Summer says loudly and apologetically: “My deepest and most sincere apologies, Deity Taiyang! I did not intend to use your shrine as my bed! Please, forgive me!”

“If you forgive her,” Port adds, “then show us another sign!”

Seeing as he’s figured out how to control the mystery flower, Taiyang raises his hand and drops it slowly, then raising it up again before repeating the motions.

The Sun-flower follows suit, making a familiar motion.

“The flower is nodding,” Port notes. “Yes, Taiyang forgives you.”

“Thank you, Deity Taiyang!”

The Deity relaxes somewhat, but not completely.

_‘I wish she wasn’t bowing to me like that,’_ he thinks. _‘If_ _anything, I should be bowing to her.’_

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, his hand moves, making the plant bend as forward as it was capable.

“… why is it bowing to me?” Summer asks.

“Another sign form Taiyang,” Port figures. “He must be welcoming you to Patch.”

The plant nods.

* * *

“We meet for the first time in many Eleven-Moons.”

Ozpin’s grey hair contrasts their youthful face, and their green eyes give Taiyang the feeling of concealed judgement.

“We do,” Taiyang states.

“And you don’t even ask me how I’ve been,” Ozpin continues, “what _I’ve_ been doing, how _you_ are doing?”

“Is there a point?”

“You reach out to me,” Ozpin explains, “and the first thing you tell me is that you’re in love with a mortal woman, Taiyang.”

“Are you saying I’m not supposed to be in love with her?”

“Not at all,” the Deity of Deities answers. “I’m just worried for you.”

“Why worry over me?”

“Because I am speaking to you from experience. Like the mortals which we preside over, we may love whomever we want to, but just like it is with them, it is in everyone’s best interest if the love is mutual.”

“But how is she supposed to fall in love with me,” Taiyang asks, “if the only way I can make contact with her is by moving flowers?”

“You cannot  _make_ someone love you,” Ozpin warns. 

Taiyang has the decency to look a bit ashamed at that.

“But,” the Deity of Deities continues, the threat gone from his tone, “if you truly love her and should you wish to prove it, then you will have to make due with moving some flowers.”

“That’s going to be hard,” Taiyang notes.

“Love is hard,” Ozpin explains. “And if it’s meant to be, it will be worth it.”

* * *

“Let’s see if I heard you correctly, … Bartholomew, is it?”

“Call me Oobleck,” the man with messy moss-green hair spits out fast enough that Summer can barely follow what’s he saying. “It’s what everyone calls me.”

“Oobleck,” Summer tries again. “You want me to become Taiyang’s Priestess?”

“Correct!” Oobleck exclaims.

“But why?”

“Because if what Port told me is true,” the fast-talker explains, “then it was because of _you_ that Taiyang responded. And with a flower that no-one’s ever seen before.”

“You mean the Sun-flower?”

“The name suits,” Oobleck notes, “but back to my point: he must’ve made it _for_ you.”

“I’m not  _that_ special,” Summer defends.

“You might be to him.”

“Then if what _you_ say is true,” the woman concludes, “Taiyang can let me know himself.”

Stepping closer to the Sun-flower at the shrine, she asks: “Taiyang? Can you give us the sign that you’re here?”

“He’s a Deity,” Oobleck warns. “That’s no way to communicate with a Deity! You didn’t even say it in Old Wor-”

The flower nods.

Summer grins at Oobleck. 

“Is it true that you made the Sun-flower for me?” Summer asks her second question.

It takes a few moments, but the flower nods again.

“Did you do it because you want me as your Priestess?”

The flower is nodding faster than it ever did before.

The stem breaks.

The two mortals exchange looks.

“I guess that settles it,” Oobleck concludes. “You’re going to be his Priestess.”

* * *

Picking up the broken Sun-flower’s head, she pulls out a seed from its center.

“That’s an unusual way of making seeds for a plant,” Summer notes out-loud.

Oobleck has already left by this point, leaving the woman alone with her thoughts and the broken plant.

She then plants the seed next to the broken Sun-flower.

And the next seed next to it.

And the next.

And making sure she plants some of the seeds on the other side of the shrine.

Until she has only one left.

“Can’t really plant you on either side,” Summer reasons with the remaining seed in her palm. “It would ruin the symmetry.”

So Summer walks to her new home - a very humble house with a bed, a table and two chairs - and plants the seed in a pot with some fresh soil.

* * *

It is many Suns later, and the Sun-flower that she planted in a pot greets her.

It waves one of its little leaves.

“And good birth-of-Sun to you, Taiyang. Is there anything you want brought to your shrine as an offering?”

The plant nods lightly.

“Other than myself,” Summer specifies.

It shakes its head.

“Not even if it’s something special and I worked hard for?”

The plant slumps in dramatic defeat, as if to say ‘why ask me if you’ve already made up your mind?’.

As she is making her way to the shrine, she is greeted by every Sun-flower along the way.

_‘It’s surprising how fast I got used to them,_ ’ she notes.

At the altar, she drops a small piece of bread that she made herself; from picking the grains, grinding them into dust, all the way to mixing the dough and baking it.

“I put some of the seeds from the Sun-flower in it,” she explains as she offers her bread. “Break the outer shell and pull out the insides. Tricky, but well worth the effort, if I say so myself.”

_‘Not to mention that it was hard not to eat all of those seeds up,’_ she recalls in her mind. _‘Felt_ _like I was possessed by a bird.’_

Once her bread touches the altar, it starts rotting away at a fast pace - something that scared her the first time she saw the process.

It quickly turns to dust.

“I take it you like it?”

The Sun-flowers all nod in unison.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now I must go help Port with his crops. They won’t reap themselves. I shall see you before death-of-Sun, Taiyang, my Deity.”

* * *

“Ozpin! You have to try this!”

“…it’s just bread, Taiyang. And don’t talk with food in your mouth.”

After swallowing with a loud gulp, the excited Deity continues: “My new Priestess made it for me. She used the seeds from a new plant that she named ‘Sun-flower’.”

“Is that the same plant you use for communication with the woman you like?”

“The one and the same! I had no idea it could make stuff like that! It’s  _so_ good!”

“If I try the bread,” the Deity of Deities tries to reason, “will you stop pestering me with it?”

“Absolutely!”

Taiyang breaks off a piece and offers it to Ozpin.

He takes it.

Pops it into his mouth.

Bites down.

Chews.

“You’re right,” he says while still chewing. “It _is_ good.”

“You shouldn’t talk with food in your mouth,” Taiyang says with a grin.

* * *

“So you’ve been living in Patch for three Moons now, Summer?”

The sky is clear and stars are visible. Summer is sitting at a small outdoor fire after a long Sun of work with Port and Oobleck, but has also been joined by a couple of other locals this time. She recognizes their faces, but they never really talked to each other until now.

Taiyang is also present. He’s sitting in the fire, looking around and listening to the conversation.

The fire doesn’t harm him, but it does warm him up a little.

“Feels like it’s been less than that,” Summer admits to the bunny-eared girl - Velvet, was it? - that is about five Eleven-Moons younger than her. “Time passes fast around here.”

“Not to me,” a guy besides Velvet states - Yatsuhashi, a tall but gentle giant of a young man. “It feels like time only gets longer with all of the work.”

“That’s because you do nothing _but_ work all Sun,” Velvet points out. “Every Sun.”

“Almost every Sun,” the guy corrects her. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“Live,” Oobleck suggests. “You’re both still young. Find a hobby, a partner. Get some new experiences. Travel the continent, or sail to another one altogether.”

“Once you reach our age,” Port adds, “you won’t be able to do some things you’d want to.”

“And same goes for you, Summer,” Oobleck points out.

“I can assure you that I’ve had more than enough of that,” Summer explains. “I have been traveling the continents my whole life, ever since I can remember. I’ve had many hobbies and even a fair share of partners along the way. I have seen enough of the world to last me a lifetime, and I believe it’s time to stay in one place. This place. Patch.”

“So you plan on having a family?” Port asks.

“I do,” Summer answers.

Taiyang perks up at that. The burning wood makes an audible crack, making some of the sparks fly out and upwards.

“But I don’t want to carry a child of my own,” she quickly clarifies. “I can’t imagine myself doing the whole ‘pregnancy’ thing. Yet I would still like to raise a kid on my own. Or two.”

* * *

“I can’t let you do that just yet,” Ozpin warns.

“Why not?”

“Because you heard her say it to the people around her as a possibility, not a certainty. And she didn’t specify  _you_ as the father of her children.”

Taiyang thinks about it for a few moments before speaking up again.

“So  _when_ will you let me do it?”

“Once she confesses her love for you  _and_ clearly expresses she wishes to have your child.”

“But she said she doesn’t want to be pregnant,” Taiyang recalls.

“I know of a few ways in which pregnancy is not necessary,” the Deity of Deities informs his friend. 

“That’s possible?”

“At least not on the woman’s part, yes.”

“Are you suggesting  _I_ should carry the child?”

“I said it was a possibility,” Ozpin defends himself. “Unless you are too opposed to the idea?”

“I think it’s too early to tell,” Patch’s Deity sheepishly admits. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Then let me know once you get her consent.”

* * *

It was almost an Eleven-Moon later when Taiyang heard the words from Summer.

In Old Words.

She’s mostly been practicing with Oobleck, but has also picked up some words and phrases from the travelers and passing merchants from neighboring villages.

Now, Summer can sing praises and prayers in Old Words with almost no errors.

But for the past few Moons, she’s been using Old Words exclusively to speak with him. _‘I_ _miss the_

_time when she spoke normally to me, in the common language.’_

_“Taiyang, my Deity,”_ Summer starts. At the shrine, she is offering some bread of her own making - with Sun-flower seeds, of course - and prepares to sing.

“ _I hereby wish to share my love with you,_

_As you share your Gifts with us,_

_So that there may be more,_

_For all of us._

_May my love for you bear fruit,_

_As bountiful as our crops,_

_And may your love for us_

_Bring things to Birth.”_

* * *

“So do I have your permission now?” Taiyang asks.

“Not just yet. But before you ask me why,” Ozpin says quickly, raising a hand to stop an objection, “I need to ask you a few questions.”

“It’s not like I have much choice,” Taiyang mutters under his breath.

“First question,” the Deity of Deities starts. “Do you really love her, or is it just her appearance that you’re interested in?”

“I _do_ love her,” Taiyang answers, “but I admit, the appearance helps.”

“Second question: if you were to find out that she does not in fact want to have your child, would you still love her?“

“I would. I’d be a bit sad, but I’d respect her decision completely.”

“Final question: have you given some thought to the idea that  _you_ might have to carry your child instead of … come to think of it, you’ve never told me her name.”

“It’s Summer,” Taiyang supplies. “But yes, I have. If she wishes to to have a child with me, but wouldn’t want to be pregnant with one, then I am willing to take over.”

Ozpin looks like he’s thinking over some things based on Taiyang’s answers.

“Come to me next Sun, and I will give you my final verdict.”

“Why next Sun?”

“You will see. Next Sun, Taiyang.”

* * *

Summer dreams of a familiar cliff. It holds a view of the valleys below, bathing the red-leafed trees in a new-born Sun.

“This is a nice view, Summer,” a man says to her.

Next to her, she sees a man with grey hair and green eyes, sitting in the same position as her.

“I have a feeling we’ve never met,” she admits to the stranger. “I think I’d remember a man who has grey hair and manages to still look young. Ish. Youngish.”

“Am I that unique-looking to you?”

“You’d definitely stand out, and I’ve met a lot of people.”

A few moments of comfortable companionable silence as they admire the view in front of them.

“Have you ever thought about having kids?”

Summer’s head turned fast enough it spooked the stranger.

“That’s a very invasive question!” She argues. “Especially from someone I don’t know. I don’t even know your name!”

“It’s … Ozma.”

“Try again.”

“Pardon?”

“It took you too long. You just made it up, didn’t you?”

Another few moments of silence. This time it’s tense.

“Doesn’t matter,” Summer says, seemingly giving up. “Why do you want to know the answer to that question?”

“Trying to pass the time.”

“If that’s so, then I’d like you to answer it for yourself, first.”

“Seems fair enough,” the stranger - Ozma - admits. “I had to take care of my brothers and sisters a lot, as the eldest child of my family. I had to help with siblings being born, and then help take care of them with my parents, until they could take care of themselves.”

“Sounds like a big family,” Summer notes. “How many sibling do you have?”

“I lost count, to be honest.”

“… that’s a lot of siblings to have.”

“Not all of them made it,” the stranger adds with sadness in his voice. “Some died during birth, and a couple died mere Suns after birth. Three died of childhood illnesses.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“The experiences took all joy and possibility of me having my own children one day. I don’t ever wish to subject any woman to it. Especially the one I’d love.”

“Then why ask the question in the first place?”

“Because I know that my experiences are not universal,” Ozma explains. “There are people in the world who love the things I don’t, and there are things that I love that the world doesn’t.”

“Well, in that case,” Summer offers, “I’ll let you know that I _do_ want a child or two, but I don’t want to be pregnant with one.”

“Any particular reason for that? If I may ask, that is?”

“I’ve seen a lot of the world with my own eyes,” she explains. “Some things were good, like making new friends and picking up hobbies and skills. And some things were unforgettably bad. I’ve seen pregnant women treated poorly by their husbands, as if their only purpose is to make children.”

“That sounds horrible,” the stranger confesses.

“The worst thing for me was when I had to assist a woman in labor. Her partner no longer among the living, I had to help her deliver her children.”

“Children?”

“Twins. They were both born healthy, but I’ll never forget the screams that tore out of that woman. I don’t want to go through such pain just to bring a living being into the world.”

“Then we are not so different, you and I,” Ozma notes.

“Sure seems like it.”

“But, hypothetically,” he continues, “if it were possible for you to have a child made after you and your loved one _without_ you getting pregnant, would you do it?”

“If the choice was up to me?” Summer entertains the thought. “I’d do it in an instant.”

“Even if your loved one is a Deity?”

“Now _that’s_ an interesting thought,” she notes. “If there was a way to clearly communicate with a Deity both ways, if their love is mutual and they both want a child of their own, I would generally not be opposed to it.”

“Do you not love Taiyang?”

“Of course I love Taiyang,” Summer explains. “I love him as much as a Priestess can love a benevolent Deity that she cannot see. Or communicate clearly with. It’s the reason I learn Old Words, so I can speak his language and feel closer to him.”

“Would you say you love him enough to have a child with him?”

“I … do, yes. I do love him that much. Even if I’ve never heard his voice or seen his face, his kindness and patience towards me and the rest of people in Patch have me convinced that I’d love to have his child. But I still wouldn’t want to carry it.”

Looking towards the Sun, Ozma stands up and says: “As much as I’d like to continue our conversation, I’m afraid I must get going.”

“Any place specific?”

“Home,” he replies.“It’s a shame no-one remembers their conversations with me once they wake up.”

Turning to face her with his back facing the edge of the cliff, he adds: “It also means I can do this.”

He leans back.

Summer instinctively reaches towards him.

* * *

Summer wakes up with a start.

The Sun has not yet been born.

She thinks about what had woken her up like that when she hears something outside.

It sounds like it’s coming from her front door.

Getting up and opening her front door, she sees the source of the noise.

A baby.

She heard a baby crying at her front door.

* * *

“So you just took her in?”

“What else was I supposed to do, Oobleck?”

After a successful attempt at calming the baby - a girl, she noticed - but failing to fall back asleep, herself, she went over to Oobleck and Port’s home to tell them of what has transpired.

“She was left at my front door,” Summer continues. “What else was I supposed to do? Leave her outside to cry, when it’s cold and dark?”

“You’re not planning to keep her, are you?” Port asks, nodding towards a small bundle in Summer’s arms.

Summer looks down, making eye contact with the little girl cradled in her arms. _‘Purple_ _like lavender,’_ her mind supplies in an instant.

“If I can’t find a better place for her,” Summer replies, “I’ll _have_ to take care of her, myself.”

“In that case, if you _do_ end up being her care-taker,” Oobleck offers, “then we offer you our help, should you ever need it.”

“And probably some of the other people in Patch, as well,” Port adds.

“Thank you, both of you,” she offers in return. “Taiyang’s Blessings upon you.”

* * *

It has been five Eleven-Moons since that Sun. No-one has offered to take the girl from her, so Summer decided to keep Yang.

Yang grew up fast - it seemed so to Summer, but the little girl grew normally.

And she is still not done growing.

She is a cheerful bundle of joy, getting along with most kids in Patch.

Except for one particular boy.

“Mercury is a jerk,” Yang complains, her typical cheer not present at the moment.

“What did he do this time?” Summer asks, humoring her.

“He pulled my hair again,” she explains. “It hurt a lot.”

“Have you tried doing what I said?”

“I _did_ tell him to stop,” Yang recalls, “because it’s hurting me and it’s not fun for me. But it didn’t work, Mommy.”

“You could try getting away from him.”

“But he follows me every time!”

“Then maybe,” Summer offers, “you could tell him that if he hurts you again, I will have some words with Taiyang about punishment.”

“But you always tell me that Taiyang is kind,” Yang says with confusion. “He doesn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Which is why he’s helping Patch with growing enough food to trade with other villages,” Summer explains. “You remember well. I guess I could talk with Marcus, instead.”

“Who’s Marcus?”

“Mercury’s dad.”

“He has a name?”

“Everyone’s got a name.”

“Even you?”

“Even me.”

“Is that why others call you Summer?”

“That’s right!”

“But why do I call you Mommy?

“Would you like to call me Summer, instead?”

After giving it some thought, Yang replies: “I like Mommy better.”

“Then I’ll be your Mommy,” Summer concludes. “Now, how about we go home and I make you some bread? I’ll need some strong hands to knead the dough, but I don’t know where to find them.”

“I’ve got strong hands!” Yang says excitedly. “I’ll help with the dough! Can we make the bread like last time?”

“With Sun-flower seeds?”

“Yes! Those! I love them so much! Can we? Can we, please? Pretty please?”

“Well, since you asked  _so_ nicely, …”

* * *

That Sun, long after death-of-Sun, the Sun-flower at Summer’s home starts to rustle.

The rustling is loud enough to wake Summer up.

_“Whatever appears to be the problem, Deity Taiyang?”_ Summer yawns in Old Words.

The flower in question …  _points_ … somewhere outside.

_“Should I go to the shrine?”_

A nod.

_“Should I bring along some offerings?”_

The Sun-flower makes a shape with its leaves. If looked at the hole it makes, it gives her a clear message.

_“The bread you shall get soon, my Deity.”_

Grabbing two slices of freshly-baked bread with Sun-flower seeds, Summer makes her way to Taiyang’s shrine.

The moon is bright enough to light her path to the shrine. _‘I_ _could probably make my way to it blind by now,’_ she thinks to herself on the way there.

Reaching her destination, she understands why Taiyang asked her to bring some bread.

There’s a small girl at the shrine.

Black hair, spilling into red at the ends.

Silver eyes that seem to reflect the moonlight.

_‘She can’t be older than three Eleven Moons,’_ Summer notes. _‘What_ _is she doing here on her own?’_

“Hey there, little one,” she greets the girl calmly with warmth. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some bread with me.”

Offering a slice, the girl takes it and chews on it carefully.

Her face lights up.

“It’s good, right?”

She nods and hums in agreement.

“How about you come over to my house?” Summer offers. “It’s not far, it’s warm, big enough, and it’s safer than being outside until the Sun is born again.”

The girl makes a struggling noise, raising her hands up.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

A nod.

“Very well, then.”

Summer picks her up and places her on her shoulders.

On the way home, she talks in a calming, warm voice, about Patch, Taiyang and her own home.

* * *

About ten Eleven-Moons later, an interesting shipment arrives from Aesop.

“Whale meat, whale bones and brushes made out of whale’s teeth,” the trader announces.

“How much do we owe to Aesop?” Amber asks.

“This is what _we_ owe _you_ , actually,” the trader explains. “Patch has given us more than enough grain to get us through even the worst of catches. So as a thank you, we give you there offerings. Also, who is the local Priest? I have something to deliver them.”

“Summer is Patch’s Priestess, serving under Taiyang,” the woman replies. Pointing to her right, she adds: “She lives over there. Follow the Sun-flowers and you can’t miss her.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

* * *

“Mom!” A girl shouts.

“Yes, Ruby?”

“There was a man at the door,” Ruby says. “He said he had this for you.”

She passes Summer a rolled up scroll.

“Did he say what it was for?” Summer asks while taking the scroll.

“Not really,” Ruby replies. “Just that it was for the local Priestess.”

She open the scroll and sifts through some words.

_‘Invitation … new Deity … five Suns ago …’_

Summer’s eyes suddenly open the widest they can.

“Mom?”

“If-” Summer starts collecting her thoughts, “if what this scroll says it’s true-”

“What is it?”

“A new Deity has been born,” Summer summarizes. “Qrow, Deity of Misfortune and Misery.”

“Sound like a bad Deity to have around,” Ruby notes. “Does it say when and where?”

“Eight Suns ago, in Aesop. That’s about three Suns’ walk from here.”

“So, besides his Curses, what’s so special about the new Deity?”

“He has a presence,” Summer finally reveals. “He can be seen and touched and can be talked with.”

The Sun-flower nearby starts rustling.

Turning their heads to the flower in question, they look at it as it conveys a message.

After some time, the rustling stops.

“All these Eleven-Moons, and I still can’t understand a thing,” Ruby pouts.

“I guess I’ll be going to Aesop to see the Deity in question.”

“Really? Won’t that be dangerous?”

“I’ll see once I get there.”

“Will you be going this Sun?”

“No, not yet,” Summer assures her girl. “I’ll need to make a few preparations and bring a few things for the travel.”

* * *

“I don’t know if I’m excited or terrified,” Taiyang confesses to Ozpin.

“Why can you not feel both at the same time?” The Deity of Deities ponders.

“I mean, on one hand,” Taiyang starts explaining, “if your words are to be believed-”

“You doubt me?”

“Only in small, healthy amount,” he assures. “if Qrow _is_ as you say he is, then-”

“That’s not his name,” Ozpin interrupts, making a correction. “It’s Crowe.”

“I think I know how to read written text when I see it,” Taiyang argues. “ _Quan_ at the beginning, four letters and no _erz_ or _cleft_ in sight. Seems to spell Qrow instead of Crowe to me.”

“But that’s not the point,” Taiyang recalls, continuing with his previous point. “The point is, I’m excited because this is the closest I’ll probably ever get to saying actual words to her, but I’m also _so_ nervous, because so many things can go wrong.”

“Such as?” Ozpin asks.

“Qrow-”

_“Crowe.”_

_“Qrow_ may not be as reliable as you make him seem. Who is to say that he won’t do something bad, either intentionally or accidentally?”

“You have my word that he has no ill intentions,” Ozpin assures. “Can’t say the same for his sister, though.”

“Then, what if he says all of the things I want him to say to Summer, and then she rejects me? Or gets rid of Yang? Or what if she leaves me for the Deity that can communicate better, faster and more reliably than I could ever hope for?”

“You worry too much,” Ozpin notes. “Crowe wouldn’t do tha- one moment, please.”

Ozpin’s eyes turn from brown to a soft, pale red, for a few moments.

“Who was that?”

“It was …  _Qrow_ .”

“Aha!” Taiyang shouts in victory, pointing a finger at the Deity of Deities. Calming down just as fast, he asks: “What did he want?”

“He’s agreed to help Summer in bringing him to Patch,” Ozpin reveals, “but he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to travel far from his own shrine.”

“So you offered him a solution?”

“Of course.”

“And you’re not going to tell me what it is?”

“I will tell you only one thing-”

“If you say ‘you’ll see’, I’m leaving this instant.”

“Then I better not say anything.”

* * *

_“As you commanded, so I have delivered, my Deity,”_ Summer says perfectly at Taiyang’s shrine in Old Words once she has returned from Aesop. _“I_ _summon you to do your bidding now.”_

Taiyang looks at the guests Summer has brought. _‘Which_ _one of the two is Qrow?’_

“Welcome to Patch, Qrow,” he greets, attempting to figure out if Qrow is the man with green eyes and brown hair or-

“Glad to be here,” a raspy voice answers.

_‘It’s the other one,’_ Taiyang finds out. He notes some of his more notable features, such as eyes that glow a soft red - _‘That_ _should’ve been a clue.’_ \- pale skin, black hair and a black feather stuck in it.

“A nice village you have here,” Qrow continues.

“I am so excited that you’re he-”

“Qrow, who are you talking to?” The man who must be Qrow’s Priest asks.

“To Taiyang, Clover.”

“Why can’t I see him?” Clover asks.

“You can see him?” Summer asks at the same time as Clover.

“I don’t know,” Qrow answers to the man, but turning to his Priestess, he answers: “But yeah. Right there.”

He points at Taiyang.

“Where all the Sun-flowers are looking at.”

Stepping up closer to her Deity, facing him almost perfectly, she says: _“I_ _greet you among us, my Deity.”_

“If only you could say that with your own words,” Taiyang says, nostalgia mixing with love. “I miss those early Suns, when you could talk normally with me.” Turning to Qrow, he adds: “It’s one of the many things about her that I fell in love with, you know?”

“You don’t have to be so formal,” Qrow says, conveying Taiyang’s words to his Priestess. “Just speak to him like you speak to me.”

“Did Taiyang tell you that just now?”

“He did. He is explaining to me why he wants me here.”

“Right,” Taiyang recalls, “I haven’t told you yet. I need to tell something to Summer.”

Taking a few moments to collect himself, he turns to face Qrow and slowly says: “I need you to tell her that Yang, her daughter, is also my daughter. I’m Yang’s father.”

Qrow’s eyes open up wide, darting between Taiyang, then Summer, then back to the Deity.

“I didn’t even know that’s possible,” Qrow replies. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!”

“Sure about what?” Summer asks.

“Taiyang wants me to tell you something,” Qrow answers, turning towards her. “Something big. Life-changing. You may not like it.”

“Those last few words seem foreboding,” Tai notes.

“Any words from Taiyang’s mouth are a blessing for Patch,” Summer assures the newcomer. “I believe there is nothing he can say to make me lose my faith in him.”

“If you say so,” Qrow warns before clearing his throat and taking a deep breath.

_‘He seems more nervous about this than I am,’_ Taiyang thinks, ‘ _and_ _I am_ very _nervous_.’

“Taiyang is Yang’s father,” he finally spits out.

Seeing how Summer takes her breath in, as if in shock, Taiyang freezes in place.

“Who is Yang?” Clover asks carefully.

“My daughter,” Summer answers, still in shock. “Yang is my daughter. And … Taiyang’s? How?”

Taiyang doesn’t respond.

He is still in shock.

His eyes are glowing an intense light blue.

“He says that when you became his Priestess,” Qrow improvises, “he thought himself the luckiest Deity. He fell in love with you. The way you talk, the way you bring joy in everyone’s lives you touch. He asked for Ozpin’s permission, and once it was granted-”

“Then Yang came to be,” Summer completes the last sentence.

A tear is rolling across her cheek.

_‘Oh no! She’s crying! She doesn’t like it at all! What have I do-’_

“I thank you for your Blessings, Taiyang, my Deity!” Summer exclaims while kneeling on the dirt and shedding more tears.

_‘Those are happy tears! But-’_

“Please don’t kneel,” Taiyang tries to tell her. Turning to Qrow, he explains: ”It’s difficult to get stuff out of cloth once it gets there. I’ve heard too many prayers about it.”

“I thank you for bringing my first daughter to the world,” she continues, not hearing her Deity’s pleas, “and I am thankful that she is yours as she is mine! People of Patch love her, and I couldn’t be more proud, even if she is sometimes a handful to take care of.”

“He is … glad to hear all of that,” Qrow says gently, “but he wants you to know that you shouldn’t be kneeling like you are now. You’re dirtying the robes.”

Gasping, Summer stands up and asks: “Is it too disrespectful to Taiyang?” She quickly dust off the robes as clean as she can.

“It’s not that!” Qrow explains. “He’s worried that the dirt would be difficult to wash off. He doesn’t want you to work harder than you really have to.”

“That … was better than anything I could ever put together,” Taiyang admits.

“His kindness is truly limitless.”

He could barely hear Summer’s whisper, but it has an immediate effect on him, as Taiyang’s eyes shift from a blue glow to a soft purple glow.

A tear is shed from his left eye.

“Thank you, Taiyang,” she says in her normal voice, not in Old Words. Turning to the guests, she adds: “And thank you both as well, Qrow and Clover. I- I don’t know how to repay you.”

“You don’t have to,” Clover reassures the Priestess. “I’m sure if the situations were reversed, you’d do the same.”

A throat gets cleared.

Everyone turns to Qrow.

“Actually,” the visiting Deity says, “if you’d like to repay us, …”

* * *

“Through here,” Summer says, guiding Qrow and Clover through one of the warehouses, Taiyang following them all closely. Getting to the crate she was looking for, she gives it a friendly tap.

“This one right here,” she says. “The same one I offered you back at Aesop.”

“How … how many can we take?” Qrow asks.

“We?” Clover protests.

“I’d say as many as you can carry,” Summer offers. “What do you think, Taiyang?”

“Sure,” Taiyang answers, “under one condition.”

“He’s got a condition,” Qrow repeats.

“Which is?” Summer asks.

“Before you came to Patch,” Taiyang starts, “you stepped in contact with Ozpin, right?”

“That’s … right,” Qrow replies. “Where exactly are you going with this, Tai?”

“Tai?” Summer and Clover repeat.

“Tai, huh?” Taiyang repeats on his own. “I like it.”

“He likes the nickname,” Qrow passes on.

“Aww,” Summer coos.

“Anyways,” Tai continues after doing the difficult task of looking away from his Priestess, “I want to know how you got here. I don’t see any glyphs, so there’s nothing grounding you, and your Priest doesn’t have enough offerings on him to sustain you.”

“Clover’s not my Priest,” Qrow deflects and corrects.

“Not yet, at least,” Clover explains. “We agreed on a Priesthood of three Moons and ten Suns, after which we’d find out if it’s even for us.”

“I didn’t go through a Priesthood,” Summer admits.

“It’s more about getting familiar with your Deity,” Clover continues, “and performing the duties which would be done regularly as a Priest, if accepted.”

“Interesting,” Summer notes. “But that means that I don’t need to go through with it, since I’ve been Tai’s Priestess for almost … what is it, fifteen Eleven-Moons? And so far, he didn’t make any complaints.”

“That’s quite a lot of time,” Clover admits. “I’ve been with Qrow for less than a Moon, since his Birth.”

“He’s a fast learner,” Qrow confesses on Clover’s behalf. “Maybe he could learn a few things from you?”

“Of course,” Summer politely accepts. “I don’t know everything, but I’m willing to share all that I know.”

“Speaking of sharing,” Tai interrupts, going back to the previous topic, “can you share with me how you got here?”

“You really wanna know, huh?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Know what?” Clover asks.

“As a condition, he wants to know how I got here,” Qrow explains.

“Then I think it’s for the best if you just show him,” Clover offers.

“Yes! Do it!” Summer cheers in support.

“Do wha-?” Tai was about to ask, when Qrow suddenly turns into a bird, flies around the warehouse, and then lands on a crate next to him.

Qrow has transformed into a black bird.

A  _crow_ .

_‘Qrow is a crow!’_

It makes Taiyang laugh form his core.

* * *

“You haven’t lost your sense of humor, Ozpin,” Taiyang notes.

“Whatever gave it away?”

“Turning Qrow into a crow!”

“So he showed it to you?”

“He did.”

“And how are you doing now, if I may ask,” the Deity of Deities inquires.

“I’m doing great!” Taiyang exclaims. “Summer now knows that I’m Yang’s dad, and now I know that our love is mutual.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” Ozpin admits. “May your love be as strong as the crops you bless.”

“Thank you, Deity of Deities.”

* * *

“So let’s see if I heard you right, Mom,” Yang says. “You said that I am Taiyang’s daughter.”

“Yes.”

“And that I am also your daughter.”

“Yes, you are.”

“But you also said that you were never pregnant,” Yang continues, “that you found me on your doorstep when I was just a baby, and I remember you just showed up with Ruby one Sun and told me to call her my sister.”

“That’s all true, too,” Summer agrees.

Yang sits down on a chair.

“That’s a lot to wrap my head around,” she admits, placing her head between her hands.

“And I am sorry I haven’t told you two sooner,” Summer says to both of her daughters. “Even if you two never came out of my womb, I still think of you both as my daughters.”

“I still think of you as my Mom,” Ruby says. Turning to Yang, she adds: “And you will always be my sister. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

“I love you both,” Summer confesses, bringing them all in a hug.

“I love you, too,” Ruby says.

They’re all silently hugging, until Yang breaks the silence.

“If I’m a demi-Deity, does that mean I have superpowers?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I am curious about what you guys think about Summer's development. At this point, I'm worried that her characterization might be read as problematic. Like, how she decides to just settle down and basically adopt the two girls - what do you guys think?
> 
> Second, I did not intend for Oobleck and Port to be a couple, but can be read as such if you choose to. It doesn't break the canonicity of my little AU, either way.
> 
> Either way, comments are love, and I'd love to hear your opinions and suggestions.
> 
> In the next chapter: How does Clover handle his new existence as a Deity?


End file.
